


Fatherhood

by Lady_of_Lorule



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: Brothers, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Ice Cream, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-08
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:22:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23068426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Lorule/pseuds/Lady_of_Lorule
Summary: Dick got mistaken for Damian’s father a lot considering there was only a ten year gap between the two of them.Or all the times Dick was called Damian's dad.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 697





	Fatherhood

Dick got mistaken for Damian’s father a lot considering there was only a ten year gap between the two of them. Not enough for that to be possible, really. Though Damian was short for his age and Dick was often mistaken for older than he was.

The first time it happened, they barely knew each other, Bruce had just died, and they hated each other. Damian was still trapped within the snobbish, violent persona he’d created to survive his childhood. He had declared that his personal mission in life to usurp Dick as Bruce’s favorite and as the best Robin. As for Dick, he’d just lost his father, he had to take over the company and the Batman mantle, and on top of that he was expected to raise Bruce’s son, who seemed indifferent to making his life hell. So, no, they didn’t get along at first.

“This is absolutely absurd, Grayson,” Damian had pouted, though he would deny it vehemently. “I demand that we go back to the Manor at once.”

“I already told you, this is happening whether you like it or not,” he snapped back.

A few of the other people in the waiting room shot them annoyed or curious glances, but neither cared. Dick’s leg bounced rapidly with pent-up energy. Damian was slouched in a chair, arms crossed as he glared at the wall with intensity.

Dick sigh and softened his voice. “Damian. It's just a check-up. It’ll take twenty minutes and then we’ll go home.”

“Whatever, Grayson.” And then the earbuds came out. Dick was seriously regretting buying those. It was Damian’s new go-to when he wanted to blatantly ignore Dick and Alfred. Once those were in, there was no getting him to talk or listen.

“That age can be rough,” a woman to Dick’s right said, leaning towards him. A little girl was leaning into her mother’s side. The mother was about twenty-eight, pretty, and apparently talking to him. “My oldest just got through it, and pretty soon it will be her turn.”

Dick let his head roll back against the wall as he turned to her. “Any tips?”

She laughed. “I wish. They grow out of it though. Anyways, I’d bet that you’re a wonderful dad.”

He jerked upright, startling her. “No! I’m, uh, not Damian’s dad. I’m his brother. Adopted brother.”

“Oh.” She tried to hide her obvious confusion and concern behind a polite mask. “I’m sorry. I just thought, with the way that you were talking—”

“It’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t mean to shout like that. It’s just...complicated.”

* * *

The next time it happened hatred had turned into begrudging respect. Working together as Batman and Robin had done wonders for their relationship. They were learning each other's moves, how the other ticked, and how to work together. But there were many bumps along the way to even reach that level of civility and trust.

“What flavor do you want?” Dick asked, eyes flickering back and forth between the bright display of ice cream tubs before him.

“ _ Tt _ . Ice cream is for children,” Damian replied, standing stiffly next to his brother. He would never complain, but Dick knew that public places made him antsy, which was why he was trying to integrate him into society slowly. Thus, ice cream trip.

“It’s just dessert. And until you’re twenty-one, this is the best treat you’re going to get.” Dick straightened and flashed a smile at the worker. “I’ll take a bowl with a scoop of cookie dough, mint, and rocky road each. Oh, and some gummy worms, chocolate syrup, and whipped cream on top, please.”

Damian stared at him in horror, but the older brother took no notice. The worker dutifully created the instructed monstrosity.

“Oh, and sprinkles,” he added. Then he turned back to his little brother. “So? What do you want?”

“Vanilla. Plain vanilla.”

Dick actually looked dismayed, as if Damian’s spartan choice had made him sad. Something strange spread through his stomach. Something like… guilt? That was ridiculous. Why should he feel guilty about one of Dick’s odd reactions?

“...with sprinkles,” he added in an imperious tone as the tips of his ears burned red. There. That should get that silly look off his face.

“It’s a start,” Dick said, but now he was beaming, bright as the sun. Damian scowled and pushed past him to grab his sprinkled ice cream cone, then marched over to a shaded table with a view of all the exits.

“Here you go,” the worker said, passing Dick his abominable treat. She chuckled. “Your kid is the first child I’ve seen who doesn’t want fifty million toppings and stuff.”

He laughed, then registered her word choice. “Oh. Damian’s, uh, he’s not my kid. I just wanted to take my little brother out for ice cream. His mom was really strict about that kind of stuff.”

“Oops, my bad. Enjoy your ice cream.” She slid him a napkin. “Maybe next time your brother will want something more interesting.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

He wandered back to the table and set down his bowl and the napkin. His brow furrowed as he realized that being mistaken for Damian’s father hadn’t upset him so much this time. Sure, it was kind of weird, mostly because he himself was barely out of his teens, but also because it was Damian. His baby brother. The kid he drove to school and took care of when he was sick and had movie marathons with.

“What’s that?”

“Huh?” he asked eloquently, snapping out of his reverie.

Damian jabbed his thumb at the napkin. “The worker wrote something on the napkin she gave you.”

Dick dutifully unfolded it and was unsurprising to find a phone number written down. Damian snatched it out of his hands and scowled. Dick rolled his eyes and dug into his dripping ice cream tower.

“Calm down, little D. She was just flirting.”

Strangely, Damian stayed fixated on the number. “You’re not actually going to pursue this...plebeian, are you, Grayson?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’m a little too busy for dating right now.”

“ _ Tt.  _ I hardly think she’s worthy of your attention.”

He fixed a puzzled expression on his little brother. “What does that mean?”

“As you said, you’re very busy. You have duties that she could only distract you from.”

“Are you...jealous?” Dick could hardly believe what he was asking, but as he said it he knew that he was right. Damian’s quick denial only reaffirmed his belief.

“Of course not! Don’t be ridiculous, Grayson!”

He raised his hands in surrender, but he had a grin on his face for the rest of the day.

* * *

The third time he was mistaken for Damian’s father, it wasn’t surprising. They had grown close, closer than any of their other brothers. Sure, Bruce was back, but not much changed at first. Dick remained Damian’s legal guardian and they still lived together. Dick still drove him to school and helped him with how he got along with his classmates.

So when Gotham Academy needed Damian’s guardian to come to a parent-teacher meeting, Dick got the invite and then accepted.

Damian came along because the kids were encouraged to attend, and he wanted to avoid Tim, who was staying at the Manor. It was odd for Dick to be back at his former school, but he focused on following Damian to his classroom.

“Hey, I think I had English here,” Dick said when they arrived. “With a different teacher, though.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Why are we even here? My grades are perfect.”

“I know, kiddo. I just want to meet your teacher. I had some snobby teachers, so I’m wary of all of them now,” he explained.

“I can handle myself, and teachers are hardly up to our usual caliber of villains.”

“Indulge me?”

Damian sighed, which he knew meant acceptance. With a grin, he pulled the door open and strode inside. Damian’s calculus teacher, a middle-aged man named Mr. Johnson, stood up from his desk to greet him. They shook hands firmly, a nervous smile on the teacher’s face.

“It’s is a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Wayne,” Mr. Johnson said.

Dick laughed. “Sorry, but I’m actually Damian’s brother. Richard Grayson.”

“My apologies, I just assumed—”

He cut him off before he could continue to trip over his words, mortification written across his face. “Don’t worry, you’re not the only one to make that mistake. I am Damian’s legal guardian, though, so we can go ahead and get started.”

“Of course, Mr. Grayson.” He looked eager to get the meeting with as soon as possible so he could go die in a ditch. Dick did not envy the man. He was probably expecting a bigger scene, having to deal with the snobbiest of Gotham’s elite class.

Dick and Damian settled into the chairs across from him. Mr. Johnson began reporting on Damian’s progress and demeanor in class, but Dick couldn’t focus. There was an odd ball of disappointment pressing on his chest. It hadn’t been easy to correct the teacher this time. It was true, Damian was not his son, but he  _ was  _ in a lot of ways.

He was the one attending Damian’s parent-teacher meeting. He took him to school and made sure he ate, and everything. Bruce was alive, but he wasn’t really back. He hadn’t taken any of these responsibilities off of Dick, and Dick didn’t really want him to.

He was still getting used to how deeply and unconditionally he loved Damian.

He loved Damian, not more than he loved Tim or Jason, but in a different way. He felt protective of Damian. He knew he would do anything for him, possibly even kill, and it didn’t even worry him. It just felt right.

* * *

Dick was in no way prepared for the fourth time he was called Damian’s father.

He’d decided to move to Bludhaven. Bruce and his siblings had Gotham covered just fine, and there were other cities that could benefit from having a vigilante guardian. He’d never really been attached to Gotham, or any place he’d lived. That was just a side effect of growing up in the circus; you always knew your stay was temporary. 

Tim found him while he was packing up a few things from his room. Dick smiled as his younger brother dropped onto his bed.

“I heard you’re moving,” Tim said.

“Just to Bludhaven. I need to get myself a life, without Bruce’s shadow hanging over me. I know you understand that.”

He huffed. “Yeah. I do. We’re all going to miss you anyways, you know.”

Dick grinned, tossing his faded Superman shirt into his bag. “Aw, Timmy, I’ll miss you, too, but I’ll literally be down the road, and I’m not territorial like Bruce. I’d love for you to come visit whenever you want.”

“Just you and me on patrol? Like old times?”

Dick laughed. “Man, it had been awhile since we patrolled together. I’ve just been so busy with Damian.” He watched in confusion as Tim’s brow furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said too quickly, then sighed. “Just— have you talked to the Demon Brat?”

“Uh, yeah. I told everyone at breakfast. He was there.”

“No, have you  _ talked  _ to him? I know our family sucks at communication, but you might want to try this one time.”

“Why? Is Damian mad at me or something?”

Tim stared at him in disbelief. Dick just felt confused. Why would he need to talk to Damian? He already knew he was moving and had been acting normally (for Damian) ever since. But something must be wrong if Tim was willingly discussing their youngest sibling.

“Dick,  _ you  _ are Damian’s dad, and you just told him you’re moving away. Of course he’s mad at you, and of course he doesn’t want you to know that.”

He laughed nervously, unable to meet Tim’s eyes. “I’m pretty sure he’s Bruce’s kid. They have the same scowl.”

“You think Damian would say the same thing?” Tim challenged. Dick fell silent and Tim’s voice softened. “Dick, you know Damian thinks of you like a dad, and I’m pretty sure he’s more than a little brother to you. You need to talk to him.”

He tapped his finger against his suitcase in an erratic pattern. “What would I even say? ‘Hey, little D, I know that you love me, so would you like to leave your loving, billionaire father who is also Batman, who you’ve idolized him your entire life, to come live with me in my crappy one-bedroom apartment in an even crappier neighborhood?’ Oh, yeah, he’ll totally go for that.”

“I think he would, actually.”

Dick let out a laugh that bordered on hysterical, running his hand through his hair. “I know. That’s why I’m not going to ask.”

“Why not? If that’s what he wants, then—”

“No. It doesn’t matter what Damian wants, he’s twelve. I’m supposed to be the responsible one, so that’s what I’m doing. Bruce can take better care of him than I can, so he’s staying."

Tim frowned. “Dick, that’s ridiculous. You’ve done a great job taking care of Damian, which is incredible considering what a brat he was.”

He shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m only twenty-one, Tim, I can’t raise a teenager.”

“Bruce was about your age when he adopted you.”

Dick froze. He  _ was  _ the same age as Bruce had been when they’d met. What a weird thought. But it wasn’t the same. Bruce had had money, resources, influence, and Alfred to assist him. Dick had almost no money, a shitty apartment, and too many tight, spandex outfits. He could ask Bruce for money, knew he would give it to him, but even the thought made revulsion curl in his stomach. No, he and Bruce were not in the same situation.

“I’ve already made up my mind,” Dick said. “Damian is staying here with his dad. It’s what’s best for everyone.”

“It’s what’s best for you,” Tim muttered.

Dick didn’t deny it.

* * *

“It’s good to see you, little D,” Dick said with a massive smile as they strolled down a Gotham street lined with boutiques and coffee shops. “It’s been a while.”

“The Titans have been keeping me busy,” he said a bit imperiously. “And Father has decided to shove Kent onto me for training. I’m busy babysitting all of them.”

“You say that now, but those people are going to be your best friends. Just like my Titans friends are still my closest friends.”

“I’m hardly excited if that means I’ll also have a Wally West stalking me for the rest of my life.”

Dick just laughed, slinging an arm around his brother’s shoulders. The sun seemed to shine especially bright around him, haloing his dark hair and making his eyes glow. Damian scowled as two girls blatantly checked out his older brother, turning around to see his rear. His only consolation was that Grayson seemed ignorant of their existence, too busy soaking in the sun, eyes closed and face tilted towards the light. His annoyance faded once he realized that.

“Don’t dis my best friend, even if he can be an idiot. Anyways, I want to talk about you, Dami. We never get a chance to hang out anymore.”

“I’m hardly the only one at fault for that. You've been busy gallivanting about Bludhaven and pissing off crime bosses for months.”

He sighed. “Yeah. I might have initially underestimated how bad the situation was in Bludhaven. I think I have it under control now, mostly.”

Damian made a ‘ _ tt’  _ noise and Dick actually found it soothing instead of annoying. Funny how these small things change over time.

“You should have enlisted help. Isn’t that what you’re always urging me to do?”

He waved a hand. “It all worked out.”

“You’re an idiot, Grayson.”

That was not an unusual statement to hear from Damian (or anyone who spent a lot of time with Dick Grayson). However, beneath the empty sneer, he heard an actual grain of annoyance and anger.

“What’s with you?” he asked.

Damian tried to pull away, but Dick wouldn’t let him. “Nothing. Stop manhandling me.”

“No way. You’re annoyed with me. What’d I do?”

And it was a sign of how far they’d come that Damian did stop struggling and sighed instead of continuing to fight.

“You should have asked for help,” he repeated.

“Dami, I’m fine, it’s all taken care of—”

“You should have asked for  _ my  _ help,” he snapped.

Dick blinked. “Oh.”

His little brother rolled his eyes, a new quirk he’d picked up from Jon. “You’re as dense as ever.”

“Look, I didn’t call you because I had it handled. But that doesn’t mean that I was avoiding you or that I don’t trust you or whatever it is that you’re thinking. Sorry. We should have done something like this sooner, just the two of us.”

That seemed to mollify the younger slightly. “Yes, we should have. And perhaps we could go on patrol tonight?”

“Aren’t you supposed to help out Bruce?”

“He can handle himself.”

Dick grinned. “Yeah. Let’s do it. Just like the old days.”

They reached the ice cream shop that had become a tradition between them. Dick held the door open and followed his brother up to the counter. Dick ordered his typical megalithic dessert as Damian ordered a single scoop of vanilla. This time, he didn’t give in to Dick’s pout. He was not inclined to shove chocolate and sprinkles into his body, his weapon, the way Dick was.

“I could cry,” Dick said, staring at Damian’s plain vanilla.

“Grow up. I can’t believe anyone trusts you with any responsibility when you act like such a child.”

He grinned, bright as the sun. “One of us has to. Also, early emotional trauma could be a factor.”

“Eat your monstrosity. You said we could go to the arcade next,” Damian reminded him with suppressed glee.

“Wanna bite?” he offered, then laughed at his brother’s disgusted look. “You’re missing out. Also, remember not to tell Bruce we did this, or he’ll get all up on me about some files he asked me to look over.”

“What files? I wasn’t aware Father was consulting you on a case.”

His grin turned into a grimace. “Not case files. These are about Wayne Enterprises.”

“Why? I thought you’re no longer working there.”

“Don’t worry about it, little D.”

Damian was clearly fixated, though, ice cream forgotten and a frown of concentration on his face. “Why are you avoiding files? Why do you even have them?”

Dick sighed, stabbing a gummy worm with a spoon. “Because Bruce wants to talk to me about the future of his company.”

“You mean about naming you heir,” Damian concluded.

Dick nodded with a miserable expression.

“ _ Tt.  _ You need not look so morose. That is a huge honor that Father is bestowing on you.”

“That’s one way to look at it.”

Damian scrutinized his brother. The sunny halo was gone, replaced with storm clouds. It wasn’t an unfamiliar look on him, but it wasn’t one he had seen recently, either. Not since the burden of the cowl had rested on his shoulders, bowed under the weight. He hadn’t expected to ever see it again.

“Do you not want to be named heir?” Damian asked.

“No. I’m flattered Bruce would trust me with his family’s company, but I have no desire to run WE, and I’d be terrible at it. I’m a college dropout, not a CEO.”

“So tell Father that.”

“I will!” he said defensively. “But later. First we’re going to the arcade. You’re so lucky I’ll take you. Bruce hates the arcade.”

“Yes,yes. I know you’re only taking me because you want to go, too. I bet you’ll spoil your offspring.”

“Since you’re my trial run, you’re probably right.”

They both flushed and looked away from each other as his thoughtless words slipped out. That was the closest either of them had ever come to acknowledging their father/son relationship. Neither quite seemed to know how to react to the slip.

Damian cleared his throat. “Shall we go?”

“Yeah!” Dick said eagerly, glad for the change in topic. “Yes, let’s go.”

* * *

Damian shuddered, his eyes flicking unseeingly about the Batcave. Sweat beaded on his forehead and his slim fingers spasmed. Soft moans and gasps escaped his chapped lips, but otherwise he was eerily silent.

Dick stroked his knotted hair, but Damian jerked away, so he withdrew his hand. Guilt and anger swirled inside him, but he shoved it down. He could fall apart later. His baby bird needed him now.

“Shh, little D, it’s just me. It’s Dick,” he whispered. He couldn’t tell if Damian could hear him. “Bruce is working on the antidote to the new fear gas right now. I promise, it’ll be over soon.”

“I...hate...Crane,” Damian ground out, shuddering with the effort.

Dick let out a noise that could have been either a sob or a laugh. “Me, too, kiddo. Once you’re better we’ll go beat him up together, okay? You’ve been wanting to hang out more, anyways, this will be perfect.”

“That—that would be...acceptable.” His arm jerked up as if blocking a punch, but of course there was no threat; only bats far overhead and his oldest brother. Dick reached out and threaded their fingers together, squeezing tight. Damian still, and Dick’s palm engulfed his tiny hand. So, so tiny. Too tiny, attached to a body too small to be pumped full of poison gas.

“Try to rest, Damian,” he murmured, voice thick. “An antidote is on the way.”

Damian squeezed his hand back, but his eyes didn’t close, still jumping around restlessly. Dick felt so useless, barely able to offer even comfort. He was tempted to go help Bruce, but he couldn’t leave. He’d been doused with fear toxin enough times to know how awful and mind consuming it was, and having someone there can help.

_ “He’d fly through the air with the greatest of ease,” _ Dick sang softly, his voice cracking. _ “That daring young man on the flying trapeze.” _

Damian’s eyes flickered shut for a moment. When they reopened, the glassy, pupil blown look had faded somewhat. He was  _ almost  _ looking at Dick. He sucked in a breath and continued singing.

_ “His movements were graceful, all the girls he did please. And my love he has stolen away.” _

He hummed the next verse, then sang the chorus again. The melody that belonged in a big top with bright lights and big smiles sounded haunting in the dark, damp cave, like something out of a horror movie. Strangely, it seemed to help Damian, so he didn’t stop.

_ “He flies through the air with the greatest of ease…” _

* * *

By the time Bruce comes to administer the new antidote, Damian has passed out from exhaustion. Dick was still sitting by his side, holding his hand and humming. He moved aside for Bruce and watched in stunned relief as Damian visibly relaxed once injected.

“Thank God,” he murmured, kissing the back of Damian’s hand. “He tried to hang on, but it wore him out.”

Bruce ran a hand over his son’s sweaty hair. “He’s always a fighter.”

Dick was still too preoccupied with his brother to notice the look Bruce was casting at him.

“I haven’t heard you sing that song in a long time,” he remarked.

Dick blinked. “I guess I haven’t. Huh.”

“That’s the song your parents sang to you when you were sick, right?”

He knew that wasn’t really a question. Bruce knew that the answer was yes. Dick had told him that years ago, but Bruce wasn’t one to forget.

“Yeah. I mean, the circus played it all the time, but my parents usually sang songs from their native language. They only sang it when I was sick because they knew it was my favorite.”

Bruce just nodded. Dick was glad. He wasn’t sure what else to say. He didn’t know how to explain that he’d dreamed for so long of singing that song to his own kids, but it felt so natural, so right, to sing it to Damian. He wished he could claim that it was just because Damian was family, his brother, but he’d never once thought of singing it to Jason or Tim.

“I don’t mind,” Bruce said out of the blue a few moments later. “You were there for Damian when I couldn’t be. It’s only natural that you care for him.”

“...I do. But I also feel wildly unqualified.” He slumped in his chair and looked up at Bruce. “Is this how you felt when you first took me in?”

The corner of his mouth twitched up. “Probably even more unqualified. I lost more than one night of sleep telling myself that I had no business taking you in, that I’d only screw everything up. Alfred had to reassure me more than once that I could do it.”

Dick laughed. “Alfred had to give me that same talk. I think he might even have drugged my tea to get me to relax and go to sleep.”

Bruce’s hand settled on his shoulder, a familiar and grounding weight. “You’re going to be a wonderful father, Dick. In another ten years or so.”

“Hey! I’m the same age you were when you adopted me! I could totally handle a kid!”

“I don’t think I’m the model for good parenting. I did help you begin a vigilante career.”

“Maybe, but I think I turned out okay anyways.”

“Alfred would disagree.”

Dick’s smile turned gleeful. “But  _ you  _ don’t disagree, B.”

“Hn.”


End file.
